DarkDethAges
by Ranekaera
Summary: You got it right, people. I have another fic. During filming of their music video, Dethklok, the studio and a few of their roadies get torched by a storm and end up in the Dark Ages! How will they survive? Genre 2 may change later on. CHAP 10 UP!
1. Kidnapped by a warrior

This idea hit me with a bang just after watching one of my favorite halloween specials on the family channel, "Hocus Pocus". I thought "man that'd be cool to live through". Then I thought "what about if We could live through it with the world's most brutal metal band?" It took off from there!

Hope you enjoy it! Please review!

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The filming of the music video was running smoothly.

They were in the process of filming the video for the "lost vikings" song, and so far it was going pretty much okay.

Outside, it was storming. Rain lashed the windows in heavy sheets and the sky had turned an ugly, throbbing purple.

In this scene, Nathan Explosion would come through the prop gates and into he prop village on a horse and, with the rest of his band, take the "villagers" hostage. The villagers were being played by random fans and several roadies, male and female, actually.

The whole song was about a group of vikings that left their lands to pillage and plunder others, all the while avoiding detection. Obviously, the video was staged to take place sometime in the dark ages.

Nathan Explosion, who was on the horse, was wearing a chain mail tunic (that weighed a frigging ton) and metal shin guards over his usual boots. On his head he had a helmet, specifically crafted for this purpose.

Beside him, his band mates wore very similar outfits, although Toki had insisted on traditional iking battle dress versus dark ages. He wore a long tunic belted with leather and covered in weapons and carried a battle ax. He wore a horned helmet and a fur cape covered in bedraggled knots.

His excuse had been, "I'm Norwegian, and I's gonna dress likes a viking, nots some englands freak."

They had only taken very basic horse riding tips for this video and as such were having a hard time controlling their horses. Nathan's balls were killing him from the width of the stallions back. Next time he rode a horse, he would wear real pants.

In the fake village that had been set up, one roadie in particular was not having a very fun time. She was 20 years old and her name was Maeve Riordane.

She usually cleaned and tuned Pickle's drums before shows, but had been chosen to play in this music video because, as Skwisgaar Skwigelf had put it, "yous is de only roadies whos does not looks like shit."

She had been forced into a fress with full skirts and squeezed tight into a bodice that pushed her considerable bosom up and formed way too much cleavage for her liking. She was to be scooped up by Nathan himself and thrown over the horses back. She had to admit, it was not something she was looking forward to. Nathan was big and strong and she was half afriad of the force he might use.

She hid behind a pile of hay, as was in the script and just as she threw herself, the lead singer of Dethklok rode by on his horse and, with one arm, scooped her up around the waist and threw her over the horse as planned. Her skirts went flying, revealing a flash of bare leg that was pale as fish and then she was riding with him. It was not very comfortable.

"CUT!"

The horse reared and she almost fell off. She managed to stay on by twisting her hands in the soot colored mane in her face. She was very near the singer's legs and could smell his sweat, his clothes and his skin. She could also smell the horses sweat. The smells combined made her want to gag.

Nathan dismounted and helped the roadie off the horse. She was shorter than him but extremely pretty. Auburn hair with darker highlights that were almost brown and eyes the color of grass. Perfect pink lips. A spike through one eyebrow and another through her tongue. Metal.

"That was excellent, guys, great job!" congratulated the band's engineer and label representative, Dick Knubbler. His robotic eyes shone green and he was smiling.

Maeve straightened her dress and sighed as best she could with the corset sinching her tight.

"Hey. Goods job," said Skwisgaar, putting a hand on her bare shoulder. She rolled her eyes. The lead guitarist had been trying to get her in the sack since day one.

"We'll finish the rest of it after a lunch break, okay? Go get something to eat," he said, and mumbling about sandwhiches, the band took off.

Maeve stayed behind. Lunch breaks for the employees were not at the same time as the band's.

She wanted to get the hell out of the dress she wore. She didn't mind dresses. She even admired the ones from the age they were trying to mimic. She had just had no idea they would be so damned uncomfortable.

"Nice job staying limp like that, Mae," said the roadie who cleaned the microphones. They didn't use their names that often. Maeve's designated name was #39. The lower the numbers were, the higher up their positions in Mordhaus were and the closer they got to interact with the band. Being just under number 40, who tuned the pyrotechnics, she was allowed onstage during shows to tune the drumsets.

She wandered off the stage, removing her slippers. They were laced around the ankle and across the top of her foot so she had to work at it, but her feet breathed a lot better away from the soft leather.

She padded barefoot over to the hallway that would lead to the kitchen. Roadies were allowed in there as long as they didn't disturb Jean Pierre, the chef.

She snuck in there now and "borrowed" a can of spaghetti-o's off a shelf of non-perishables. What spaghetti o's were doing in a place where there was a gourmet chef, she had no idea.

She punched it open with a can opener, and grabbing a spoon, she began gulping it down as she walked. She was hungry now, dammit, and she wasn't going to wait for the band to finish sipping their tea to eat.

She loved Dethklok, liked hanging around near them, liked listening to their music, liked working for them. They really were good bosses, when Skwisgaar wasn't hitting on her. They just didn't treat her as a regular. They treated her as a number, not someone they knew by name. That was the only thing stopping her from correcting their way of thinking sometimes. She didn't want to be a nag, lest she be known as the nagging roadie.

She headed back to the stage set where the rest of the roadies were lolling around. A few of them were wearing wigs because their heads were shaved or they had hair styles not akinned to the Dark Ages. Like the purple mohawk of roadie #216, who was shorter than average.

She flipped her auburn hair over her shoulder and sighed. Time to get back into character soon.

She bent over on a stool and began lacing her shoes up once more, her hair hanging down in soft, loose curls to obscure her cleavage. She looked up only when a particularly loud boom of thunder made her jump. The storm outside was getting worse.

She stood up once more and regained her composure in time for the band to come walking back in.

Time to assume the position.

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PLEASE REVIEW!!!! I will be working simultaneously on this fic, as well as a different one, now that I have permission. PLEASE REVIEW!, wait,. I already said that... eheh. Nevermind.


	2. Thunderclap

I know, you're thinking "thunderhorse" right? The name of this chapter? Ah forget it. Nevermind. You'll understand soon enough.

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She had Nathan help her back up onto the horses saddle, on her stomach. Once he got on, she would twist her hands in his clothing, attempting to fight free. Nathan had warned her several times beforehand not to grab his balls, but if he kept bossing her around, she thought she just might.

More than once a day, she had to remind herself that if she wanted to keep her job, she would curb her temper. She did so again now.

She felt Nathan swing his leg over and as he did she unwillingly caught a glimpse (close up, frighteningly enough) of his testicles through his underwear before he sat down. She tangled one hand in the horses mane and the other in the skirt of his chain mail and waited for him to steer the horse back into position. The other roadies hadn't been allowed to move from their positions. Being pretty had its advantages. Like she was allowed to actually chat with the band, even if she didn't typically get much of an answer. She may as well be the washerwoman.

"Camera 2, get back into position," said a voice. She didn't put her head up to see who. She was busy trying not to stop breathing. Her position on the horse combined with the pressure already exerted on her diaphram, she was having difficulties.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked Nathan from above her. She looked up, craning her neck and saw him looking down at her. His usual glare had been temporarily replaced by one of concern. His hair hung down and tickled her back. She was bare under the corset and it laced up the back. She was playing the village slut, a role she usually would have refused hands down but had accepted on the grounds that they would pay her extra at the end of the week.

Ironic now that she thought about it.

"Having... trouble...breathing...that's all. I'm good," she grunted between breaths.

Nathan called someone over and she saw Knubbler.

"Can we maybe have her sit up in the script? She says she can't breathe," he grunted. She knew damn well he didn't really care about her. The more people dead in this crummy world, the better. He just didn't want her blacking out and ruining the video.

Knubbler flipped through some papers at his side and mumbled to himself.

"I suppose... How about halfway through the pillaging, we could have you pull her up by the arm and force her to sit up straight?" Knubbler suggested.

Nathan shrugged. It was fine with him.

"On in four...three...two...one!"

She felt the horse rear as Nathan dug the bit in and the other roadies began screaming in mock terror. Pyrotechnic flames danced up again and she felt the horse's hooves decend on hard ground. She began trying but not reeally trying to struggle with the rider and she felt Nathan's large hand close around her upper arm and yank her up, forcing her upright. She swung her other leg over and felt Nathan trap her against the horses neck with his arm and body, so she couldn't "escape". This was all acting.

Outside, the thunder rattled the windows. She herself had personally helped the other roadies install that lightningrod on the roof, so it wasn't struck by lightning. Nonetheless, she saw the brief spark that illuminated the area of the floor covered in wires and chords and cameras. Knubbler's body jerked on the camera one and nearly everyone stopped what they were doing when they smelled burning plastic. The camera was getting fried.

"I think lightning struck the roof!" she said. She figured a melting camera was a good excuse to ruin the scene.

"Yeah," said Nathan, staring awestruck as the metal lens rim stuck to Knubblers skin and began frying him too. This all took place in a span of less than one minute.

Suddenly, lightning struck again, and Maeve thought _so much for saying lightning never strikes the same place twice. Nice going mom_.

She knew lightning had struck again because the pyrotechnics were automatically cut off and there was nonetheless an explosion that rocked the very floor. People fell over and the horse they were both on bucked and reared, screaming in terror. She felt electricity flow through her arms and legs and her teeth and everywhere and was shocked and infuriated to find that she couldn't move.

"Who was the dumb fuck who made the floors metal?!" she demanded, but her yell was drowned in Nathan's. She could feel him twitching and jerking behind her. He was being electrocuted too. Did electricity ebb somewhat over long distances? They should be dying by now if it was lightning.

The horse reared too far over and they both fell off. Nathan, surprisingly, was the one that saved her before the horse could crush her. She had fallen on top of him on her backl and he grabbed her in a bear hug and rolled out of the way, despite the fact that they were both still being shocked. The horse fell, nearly a ton of twitching flesh hitting with a meaty thud.

She would have liked to thank him but a second jerk in the flooring and she lost consciousness.

Nathan was still hanging on, but just barely. He was awake long enough to notice that the girl in his arms had gone limp but was still twitching and that the room around him was starting to take on a lot of wierd shapes that hadn't been there before. He didn't _think_ he was drunk. Nonetheless, he soon joined her.

The last thing he heard was what sounded like a gunshot cranked to full volume. He joined Maeve, aka #39, in the blackened deep of the body's shut down state. Blackout.

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Uh oh... what happened? hahaha review!!!


	3. 1315AD ethklok

Alright, people, I had to do a LOT more research to do this chapter than I thought I would need. Apparently, I don't know everything about the history of Ireland. Imagine that.

Anyway, if anyone knows more than me, please feel free to review and correct me as harshly as you want, and I will correct myself. Bear with me.

The Great Famine took place from 1315-about 1325, and I had to do a lot of historical research, which took me all of about 15 minutes, eheh. I like skimming notes. D

Anyway, like I said, read on, correct me if you think I'm wrong and I'll do all I can to rectify it.

PLEASE REVIEW!

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When next he awoke, he had no idea where he was, but it sure wasn't mordhaus. He felt dirt and a heavy breeze.

He opened his eyes and was about to yell at the first person he saw when sunlight hit his eyes. Bright sunlight. It had been storming outside just a while ago.

He opened his eyes all the way and saw that he was lying in a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, surrounded on all sides by lush greenery. Birds called to one another and from a distance, he could hear water. Where the hell-??

Around him, very close by, he saw the girl, #39, Maeve, he thought her name was. Her auburn hair appeared to be fire, pooled out around her on the dirt, her costume dress belled out. Pickles lay close by her and at a further distance, he thought he saw a glimmer of blonde hair that looked white in the bright sunshine. Toki lay beside him.

Forgetting that he was somewhere other than Mordhaus and that the very idea was fucked up anyway, he crawled over to Toki and shook him awake.

"Toki... toki!" he growled.

"Huhhh... owww, des knifes are digging into mys leg," he groaned and he rolled over and sat up, blinking his bright blue eyes in the harsh sunshine. A gentle breeze kicked up, blowing tendrils of red-brown hair across the grass. Maeve was stirring now. She sat up and wiped her hair from her face. She was still twitching from the electrical surge of the storm but the surroundings had her baffled too.

"Where the hell are we?" asked Murderface, walking up to them all. He alone looked unfazed. Nathan assumed he had awoken before he did. Murderface wore a knee-length tunic covered by an equally long chain mail and the same shin guards. A spiked steel mace hung on one side of his waist, a long knife on the other.

"Oghhh... where de hells am I?" said a voice. They all looked toward the source and saw that Skwisgaar had awoken.

He got to his feet and clanked his way towards them, his black chain mail clanking against the armor plate across his chest. A longsword was belted to his side.

Maeve blinked and looked around her. She squiinted at something in the distance and her eyes went wide, the green becoming almost mint colored because of the sun. She climbed to her feet and straightened out her dress.

Nathan got to his feet as well and joined Skwisgaar, Murderface and Toki next to Maeve. They were all staring at the same thing now. Nathan had thought they were in the middle of nowhere, but in the distance he could see the tips of some castle or other.

"Where de hells are wes? Where's Mordhaus?" demanded Skwisgaar, but not angrily. He looked confused.

"We're... oh my word. That place isn't supposed to be there..." muttered #39.

"What do you mean, not supposed to be dere? Where the hell are we?" demanded Pickles.

Maeve said nothing, just stood there, her long auburn curls blowing in the wind. God, she was gorgeous, but a hothead. Nathan knew, because he heard stories from the Mordhaus librarian. Once, according to her, #39 had nearly beheaded the microphone cleaner for making a pass at her.

"Where is we?" asked Toki. Now everyone was looking at the girl. She in turn was staring at the castle in the distance.

"I think we're in Ireland." Her voice was distant, distracted.

"What de hell? Ireland? You sure, kid???" asked Pickles.

"Irelands?... knull meg hardt og fort," muttered Toki, shaking his head. The wind was kicking up fast and the sun was beginning to disappear. The pretty scenery suddenly didn't look so pretty anymore. In fact, Nathan didn't know just what it was, but he felt... threatened. He had never felt anything quite like it in his life.

"I was... born in Ireland. I know this place. It's a small town called Ballina... but last time I was here, that castle was a pile of junk," she said, pointing in the distance to the castle. (A/N: I am guessing here, anything in the town of Ballina is fiction created by me for theatrical purposes, don't kill me)

"Wai, wai, wai, wai, wait, you were _born_ here?? As in, was born??" said Pickles incredulously.

"Yes," she said, making a face at him. The wind began to pick up speed and the sky was beginning to roil with thunderclouds. Nathan's hair was getting caught in his chain mail. He peeled it off over his head and his hair got caught even more. He felt hands helping him disentangle it and judging by the smallness of the fingers and the smoothness of the skin, it was #39.

He got it off and folded it over one arm.

"Thanks," he grunted.

"So, what, that castle ain't sposed to be there?" asked Pickles, pointing to it.

"Nope. That's Dallybarden castle, an old fort. I don't get this at all," she said, looking half confused, half nostalgic.

"Well. That settles it. I'm goin' there, I need a drink,"said Pickles and without another word, he started walking off.

"Waits for me!" called Skwisgaar, and he ran after him.

Nathan followed them as well, figuring a few drinks would calm him considerably.

He heard frustrated growling and turned to see #39 trying to run after them, but she kept tripping on the skirts of her costume dress. The skirt was dark blue with a red underlining that was revealed through a V cut into the front and her corset was deep purple and black with dark red lacings. Her shoulders were bare. She looked cold.

"So you know this place. Ireland," he growled, simply wanting to make sure she wasn't fucking with them all.

"Of course I know this place. I used to live here when I was a little kid, like 6 or 7. I was moved to America when someone adopted me, and I've sounded like them ever since," she explained.

"What I don't get is how we got here and why Dallybarden is standing all of a sudden," she growled and Nathan saw that worried look on her face again.

As they neared the town, Nathan began seeing more and more dwellings, all made from wood and nearly all of them were only two stories. Made from white wood banded with brown to make arches and designs and he saw a church in the distance. Here and there people mulled about and they were all dressed in much the same fashion. Torn and ragged clothes that looked like nothing more than burlap bags tied with rope and leggings. The women wore dresses but #39's was more colorful and a lot more detailed. They would all stand out like sore thumbs. Why were they all dressed wierd?? Was it a festival?

"Wow. This is wierd," said Pickles, stopping dead.

They had entered the town but stopped dead at the front of the first street. A bad sell reached his nose. Smelled like sewage and animal shit. Disgusting. He also smelled salt water.

Up closer, the people in this place seemed downright irritable. Even as they watched, a woman was screeching at an older man in a strange language, and waving a dead chicken as she yelled.

"WOW. They're speaking Gaelic," said #39.

"You speak Gaelic?" asked Pickles.

#39 sighed and turned to the drummer.

"Yes, I speak Gaelic. Hang on, let me ask someone what the hell is going on so we can get out of here... however we got here," she said, and she walked away from them and approached the screeaming woman. She had stopped screaming.

They watched as the two women said a few words and the older woman was looking at #39 as if she were crazy, in Nathan's opinion.

A moment later, #39 came walking back, holding her skirt to her ankles as she did so the dress wouldn't drag and get dirty. She looked pale as flour and her eyes were worried more than ever now. She was biting her lip.

"Well?" said Murderface.

"She uh... says to get out of here before we bring panic. You guys are dressed looking ready for battle. We're probably scaring hell out of these people," she said, glancing down at all their clothes.

They all stared at her skeptically but then Skwisgaar voiced the question they were all thinking.

"What de hells are yous talkings abouts?"

#39 Stared them all in the eye and her expression was no laughing matter. She looked as if someone she knew had just died.

"We _are_ in Ireland and this _is_ Ballina. But the year is 1315."

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DUN DUN DUUUN!!!! please review!! That bit of foreign passage where Toki speaks means "fuck me hard and fast". Sort of like saying "oh, fuck me sideways". lol.

Like I said, lots of rsearch. The Great Famine is just settling its sharpened claws in and the band is in for a rough time. Please read on!!!!


	4. Duality

Hey, I won't be doing much more on the historical aspect until my old high school history teacher gets back to me, lol, so here is a filler chapter.

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"Will they pull through?"

Charles Ofdensen had not been in the studio when the lightning hit. He had come running when he heard the thunderclap and the screaming. If anything happened to Dethklok, not only would he lose his job, but he would lose his source of income too, and as a matter of fact, he liked his paychecks, despite the headache the men gave him sometimes.

Right now he was in the medi unit of Mordhaus and Dethklok were all laying on the beds.

"They are in comas, but it's unusual... their brainwaves are racing. It is the equivalent of everyday thought process. Whatever, look, the bottom line is, they must be in some sort of dream state or something. Talk to them. They should be able to hear you," said the Mordhaus doctor

He left Ofdensen with his proverbial bread and butter.

He looked sadly at the pale, calm faces of the band and noticed there was a sixth person, the girl. Her face was pale, serene almost. She looked as if she were sleeping.

The rest of the help had all been electrocuted to death. There was no reason why the girl should have survived too. Yet here she was, seemingly in this strange coma.

She made some sort of incoherant noise in the back of her throat and the machine she was hooked to began beeping faster, but she soon settled back in.

Charles didn't know what to think, but he had to tell the media something when Dethklok didn't snap out of this soon. He would tell them... damn it, he didn't have any idea what he would tell the public.

He had to pull his act together. He left the band's side for a moment to look through his paperwork.

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"1315?! Are you sherious?"

Murderface looked much as he had the time a hooker had kicked him in the balls. Nathan, on the other hand, got excited. Being thrown back in time was totally not metal, but pissing everyone off... brutal.

#39 Looked pained, biting her lip and nodded. The rain then began to fall and everyone started to go back inside.

"Oh, great, will ya.. dammit now my armor is gonna rust!" Murderface complained.

"Dood, calm it, Murderface. What's your name again? May?" asked Pickles.

"Maeve," she corrected him, pronouncing it as may-eve.

"Maeve, fine, look. We all got shocked by dat storm and now we're in the middle ages? So what do we do? You know this place better than we do," he said. Of all of them, Pickles was usually the first to grasp reality.

The girl sighed and nodded.

"Ironic, is all. I work for you guys, tuning your stuff and helping the others cater to you, and now suddenly, _I'm_ the boss," she said, sighing and rolling her eyes to the sky. The storm was growing. They needed somewhere to stay.

"Look, whatver, just. You know. Help us out here, Irish," grunted Nathan.

Maeve sighed and looked around them again, this time not so much worried as she was thinking.

She approached one lone man who was hurrying a dirty and bedragled child into a nearby shack and began babbling away in Gaelic.

The man stopped and listened, said something back ot her, to which she responded and pointed back to the band.

Nathan watched as she approached them once more.

"Come on, hurry, that guy says he runs an inn and we can stay there for free until this storm settles. Although I think he was paying more attention to this dress than what I was saying..." she said, looking slightly annoyed.

"Free night in an inns? I bets its gots bugs and stuffs," said Skwisgaar, staring at the building with apprehension.

"Screw dis shit, Im going!" said Toki. He was getting soaked.

In fact, they were all getting soaked. The rain was coming down hard now.

As they walked towards the Inn, Maeve started talking. It looked like she was doing some fast thinking.

"Nathan, Murderface, shut up. Skwisgaar, Toki, if anyone asks you anything, pretend you don't know english. I don't think these people like the english. Just... I dunno, speak whatever. Play stupid."

"What about me?" asked Pickles.

She stopped for a moment, taking in his appearance.

"You look like Irish, but you don't speak Gaelic. Pretend you're mute."

"I'm sorry, what? Mute? So basically, you want us all to shut the hell up and have Toki 'n Skwisgaar play foreigner?" he said.

"Pretty much. Look, we wanna get outta here, right? So just play along!" she said hotly. The rain had drenched her hair, turning it from auburn to a dusky hazelnut color. It was plastered to her face and her dress. They were all getting drenched.

"What'd you tell him bout our armor?" asked Nathan.

She bit her lip.

"I haven't told him anything about that yet. I guess I could tell him that you guys are all foreigners and that maybe you're here to look and then go back "home"... that might work. Honestly, I'm just whinging it here," she admitted.

They all followed her in silence. Staying wuiet, he could do. No problem. He just wished he knew how the hell they had gotten here.

She stopped short at the door and turned back. She eyed them all importantly, then stared him in the face. She was pretty and now that he thought on it, she looked very irish.

"No trouble, guys, got it? We wanna get out of here alive, not piss everyone off. These people aren't afriad of killing us and neither is anyone else. It's just a good thing I remember my history," she said.

"We gat it, we gat it, just go! We're gettin' soaked here!" said Pickles.

She turned and opened the heavy wooden door and they followed her inside.

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PLEASE REVIEW!!!!


	5. Change of clothes

Hey, since I can't find specific answers to the research questions I'm trying to find, I have concluded that aside from actual historical events, I am simply going to whing this thing. Any historians out there please feel free to correct me. You can see fan art of my stories on my myspace, which is www dot myspace dot com slash kornmetal4

PLEASE REVIEW

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The inside of the Inn was shabby and wholly unfamiliar to Nathan. The floor was made of rotted wood boards and the whole place smelled like dirt and candle wax. The only light came from various candle stubs here and there. Several tables littered the front of the room, but at the momen, they were all vacant.

Clanking as he walked, they all approached the front desk which was also a sort of bar and Nathan got a better look at the old man. He had dark green eyes and black hair and his face looked vaguely familiar. He wondered why.

"_An bhfuil aon éadaí breise agat dom agus do mo chairde_?" said Maeve to the man.

The man mumbled something and went to a room behind the counter and re-emerged with an armful of clothes. Nathan wondered what the hell she had said to him.

"Taing," she said, taking them from him and she turned back to the band and began distributing various items to them all. The old man watched suspiciously as Nathan fingered the tunic Maeve handed him and he frowned. It felt like the bags they used to put potatoes in.

"Take them and try not to act suspicious," she hissed and Nathan decided to play along. He attempted a humorless smile and waited for the man and Maeve to stop babbling in Gaelic long enough for him to ask her what the hell they were supposed to do.

"Come on. This way to the rooms," she said quietly, and she began leading them along a narrow hallway with nothing but doors in it. The walls had been whitewashed and smelled faintly of piss and dirt.

"Gahd, dis place is a dump!" muttered Pickles, lookng around.

"Yeah. And it shmells like pissh," said Murderface.

Maeve rounded on them like an angry bobcat.

"Look, _you_ don't know why we're here, and _I_ don't know why we're here, but as long as we're here, you play along, alright? Just stop complaining. It'll only make things worse," she hissed.

"Hey, why do we have to stay quiet anyway?" asked Pickles.

"Because if I remember my history right, 1315 is the year the English decided to raid this part of Ireland, and if they catch us speaking english, they'll think we're the enemy, so just zip lip and play stupid," she replied washpishly.

They were quiet until she stopped dead and pushed open a door that had peeling paint and scratch marks on it. The knob was made of metal and looked like a door knocker.

Once inside the room, Nathan was dismayed to see that it only contained three beds. A couple of them would have to bunk together. He was willing to bet they were uncomfortable and infested with bedbugs and lice and who knew what else as well.

Not caring that everyone else was staring at him, he stripped off his black t shirt and the armor plate he wore over it and pulled on the long brown tunic. To his surprise, it was actually... comfortable. A belt came with it and he put this on as well. He left his pants and boots on because he figured no one would notice. He removed the shin guards, however. Now he wore a brown belted tunic dark blue pants and black boots. A regular jackoff in 1315.

Looking around, he saw that the others had changed too. They all wore similar clothing. Tunics, belts and in Murderface's case, a pair of wierd looking brown pants. They call kept their boots on.

They all looked to Maeve, who still wore her as-yet-unheard-of corset and skirts and she glared at them all.

"He didn't have any dresses. I guess I'm stuck wearing this thing. People are either gonna think I'm a whore or some stupid noble," she said disgustedly, ruffling the brightly colored skirts.

"Well, what now. We're dressed and stuck here in this hell hole in the middle'a nowheeere and it's like the dark ages. How the hell do we get back?" complained Pickles.

Maeve pulled the skirts up to her knees and sat on the edge of one of the beds, unusally straight. The corset prevented her from slouching and she looked damned uncomfortable.

"Here, lets me help yous wis dat," said Toki and he clambered over the bed and, moving her hair aside, began unacing the back and relacing it slightly looser. As he tied it loser, Maeve relaxed little by little, although the corset still outlined her shape and she still looked tempting. Toki backed off and Maeve loked as if she were breathing easier.

"Thanks. I needed that," she said gratefully and she sighed.

"So? whats do we dos?" asked Skwisgaar, who was looking very odd and out of place in a dark green tunic. Green was not his color.

"You're asking me?! What, you think I've been through this before????" she demanded, eyes wide.

Toki, who had always been more warm and friendly towards her as a roadie, put an arm over her shoulder and gave her a brief side hug.

"Nos, we's askin you because you's speaks dat language dat dey's all speaks. And you knows your ways arounds this place. We don'ts. So yous in charge," he explained, smiling in what Nathan guessed he thought was a reassuring smile.

"Gee thanks," she said and she sighed again and lowered her head so her hair was in her face. Nathan took a seat on the floor. No way in hell was he sleeping on the bed. Who knew what had been there before him.

Murderface and Skwisgaar, however, didn't seem to mind. They both took seats on the other beds.

Over in the corner, their armor lay in a small pile. They had decided to keep their weapons. Nathan had a battle ax. Murderface had the knife and the mace. Toki had a viking longsword and a shortsword. Skwisgaar had a short sword and a knife. Maeve, of course, had nothing.

"Heres. In case we runs into troubles," said Toki and he handed the girl his short sword.

"Thanks." she said, accepting it.

Outside, the storm raged on. The Inn was much too quiet.

Nathan used his discarded shirt as a pillow and closed his eyes. He was asleep within minutes.

Toki watched as the lead singer curled up on the floor and ignored them all. He turned back to the girl and got to his feet, too, looking out the window. It gave a good view of the muddy street below. He had seen pictures of places like this in old textbooks and in his history classes in school, but upon finding himself thrown into one of them, he found he had no idea what to do.

He turned back to Maeve and found her looking at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just looking past you out the window," she said. She looked tired for some reason.

"I'm gettin schom shleep. Shee you in the morning, or whenever it shtops raining," said Murderface, and he fell back on the bed he was sitting on.

"If you wake up at different times tomorrow, do NOT leave this room!" said Maeve firmly and Toki was surprised to hear the finality in her voice. It demanded that they listen to her.

She curled up on the bed as well, wrapping her skirt around her legs since the scratchy wool blankets were thin and Toki, being left no choice, curled up beside her for warmth. Skwisgaar took the bed Murderface wasn't sleeping on and after awhile, Nathan noticed that they had all stopped talking.

The floor was getting uncomfortable. He got to his feet, and realized he would have to be gay for about 8 hours. Toki was with Maeve and Murderface and Skwisgaar had the only other fucking beds.

Grumbling about the stupid irish, he climbed up with Skwisgaar and fell asleep as close to the edge and as far away from the Swede as he could get.

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PLEASE REVIEW!

translations:

_An bhfuil aon éadaí breise agat dom agus do mo chairde---- do you have any spare clothes for my friends and I?_

_taing--thanks_


	6. Awaken

Hey, I now have a complete plot all thought out for this, so meh. You'll have to read.

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Charles Ofdensen was not a religious man. He hated religion, in point of fact. But as the night wore on and the next morning came and the band was still not up yet, he found himself reciting old prayers that his mother had drilled into him from birth until he decided to refuse it.

He was in the medi unit of Mordland's property and was staring at the for-the-moment comatose band and one roadie. He would rather take a knife to his own face then let anyone see him stroking the girl's hair or holding Nathan's hand and coaxing them back to wakefullness, but he did anyway.

If they didn't wake up soon, the media would have a field day. So far he had told them the band was taking a few days off. How long, exactly, they were going to be in this dream state he did not actually know.

It was while he was sitting beside the bed of Skwisgaar that he heard it. A small noise, barely perceptable, coming from the bed next to hers.

He looked and saw the girl, Maeve was her name. She was awake. Her eyes were open and she was awake.

Charles immediately helped her sit up and she looked around, saw the others in the beds, then saw him.

"No... I can't be woken up yet, I have to go back and help them. We were in Ireland," she said, suddenly alarmed.

Had being shocked done something to her brain? Nothing she was saying made any sense to him. What if the rest of the band were similarly afflicted?

"You have to shock me again, I need to go back, you don't understand!" she said, slightly louder now.

Charles sighed. Nothing she was saying was making any sense to him so he figured why not. It was Dethklok he was worried about and if she said she could help them, then so be it.

"Don't worry. I'll bring them out of this. I think I'm the only one who can. None of them speak Gaelic," she said.

Charles held a split wire from Skwisgaar's broken guitar to a cut on her arm and plugged it in. Her body jolted and she went back down.

The brainwaves on her monitor returned as they had been. Dreaming.

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She awoke with a start, as if she had beenn having a bad dream. She was covered in a cold sweat and looking out the window, she saw that it was dark but still raining.

Breathing heavily she realized there was an arm around her waist and someone was breathing into the back of her neck.

She stirred slightly and saw Toki, asleep. She decided not to wake him. It _was_ chilly.

She had been dreaming, she knew that. Why had the band manager been in it? Dethklok had been in hospital beds and so had she. She remembered explaining things to him but he hadn't understood.

What if _this_ was a dream and the people in the hospital beds were really them? What if this whole thing was just a dream? If it was, why couldn't they wake up????

She had questions but no answers. Sighing, she repositioned Toki's limp arm and fell back to sleep.

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PLEASE REVIEW!!! Uh oh... what's going on... trippy...


	7. Teasing Toki and bartering metal

WAITIN FOR CHAPTER FIVE OF PURPLELEEMER'S GUITARISTKLOK!!! XD XD XD XD XD

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When next she awoke, it was to laughing.

She blearily opened her eyes and noticed the sky outside was still storm gray but at least it had stopped raining for the moment.

She rolled around and saw that sometime in the night, Toki had practically become glued to her side for warmth.

"HA, Toki's gots a littles crush!" Skwisgaar was laughing. He was still dressed in the starchy green tunic the innkeeper and he looked a bit like a blonde robin hood.

Maeve sat up. Toki's arm fell off her waist and he slept on. He was... cute when he slept.

Then she realized why the others were laughing and she glared at them.

"Shut up," she snapped, and she climbed out of bed and began running her fingers through her hair to straighten it out. She feltlike a slob, she hadn't showered since the morning before, when everything had been right and they had all been in Mordhaus.

Mordhaus. Mordland. Even though she lived there, she had never really considered it home, because she was on duty so often, but now that they had been thrust into the middle of the proverbial nowhere, she was homesick for Mordhaus.

"Shut up laughing, it was really cold lastnight. We should _all_ have slept in the same bed," she said, grumpy this early in the morning.

"What, we can't all fit in one bed," said Murderface stubbornly.

"I was just saying." she said groggily, and she walked over to the window to look outside. People milled about here and there, trading goods from temporary stalls, but what did they use for money? To live through this, they had to watch and learn first, and the guys figured she knew everything about Ireland. Well, she didn't, not by a long shot.

As she looked below, she caught a glimpse of someone handing something small to one of the vendors but she couldn't quite make it out...

Then she got an idea. To survive anywhere, you needed money. She could have Skwisgaar or Toki ask the inn keeper something in Swedish or Norwegian and since the innkeeper probably didn't know either of those languages, she would "translate" and thus get the answer they looked for.

She spun around and pointed at Skwisgaar. Toki was Norwegian and she had no idea if the Irish had any hard feelings. It was possible they could have.

At this point in time, Ireland was like the knot on a tug of war rope and everyone in europe was pulling.

"Me?" he said, pointing at himself.

"You. You can speak Swedish, right? You're from Sweden of course you can, okay... ask the innkeeper what you use for money," she said, half rambling, half explaining.

Everyone looked at her as if she'd gone crazy.

"We don't know what these people use for money and if we don't find out, we might not get out of here. Just ask the man!" she said exhasperatedly.

"Alrights, okays! Fine! I'll ask hims!" Skwisgaar gave in. He walked past them all and out of the room. Quickly, before anyone could lose sight of him, they hurried after. As they walked back down the hall and towards the combination inn and bar. They were just in time to hear Skwisgaar in all his Swedish glory.

"_Skulle du sker veta hastigheten av pengar här? JAG er från bort och önskan till äta_," he said politely.

The innkeeper stared at him strangely, noticing that the man before him was not English. But what the hell was he saying?

Toki watched as Skwisgaar asked the old guy what was used for money (he understood enough Swedish to get by but he couldn't speak it very well) and listened as Maeve translated in Gaelic.

Gealic, he could not understand.

The old man looked at them all like a bunch of circus freaks or something and responded.

Maeve turned back to them and her expression didn't bode very well.

"Barter. Cattle. Livestock. Gold coins. Anything valuable that can be traded. What about the armor you guys were wearing?" she whispered so quietly no one could hear her. Toki did though.

He ran back to the room they had slept in that night and gathered all the discarded armor in his arms.

He met the others back outside.

"No way, I'm not schelling thish shtuff,-" protested Murderface, but he was silenced from a sucker punch from Maeve.

"You - guys- are - _billionaires_. You'll trade it for food and whatever else we need and you can always buy more when we get back, now do it!" she hissed furiously. Murderface shut his mouth, finally cowed.

She snatched a few pieces of Nathan's armor from Toki's arms and marched over to the nearest food stall.

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Maeve is not-so-large but in charge on this escapade and she doesn't really remember her "dream". Keep reading and please review!


	8. Full bellies and nowhere to go

I know exactly where this is going... I'm just too damn lazy to update faster, but I'll try my best.

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Toki watched her go.

They all waited while she bickered with several different stalls, a lot of them dealing in food and returned moments later with a large covered basket full of bread, fruit, wrapped packages of meat and large furry canteen-looking things that Toi guessed were full of drink. The armor she had grabbed was gone. Nathan held the rest of it in his arms.

Murderface immediately grabbed a chunk of bread and Toki helped himself to what turned out to be wrapped fish. He didn't mind it raw and took a huge hunk out of it.

Pickles was munching on another hunk of bread and had somehow managed to slip slices of apple between torn off hunks.

"Thanks," mumbled Toki around a moutful of white fish. It was almost like herring, but not quite... whatever it was, it was good.

Maeve hooked the basket over one arm and helpd herself to a few thick slices of meat wrapped in white paper and twine string. It was raw and blood red and the juices seeped onto the paper, but she took a great chunk of it and chewed.

"You know for the middle of nowhere, this stuff ain't half bad," said Pickles, helping himself to another apple.

"Well, eat in moderation, we have to save some of it for later. Food is gonna get really hard to find in a few months," said Maeve darkly, looking out behind all the houses. Toki and the others folowed her gaze.

Fields and fields, bordered by fences and livestock, but the corn was dying. The tomato plants they could spot were dying as well. It was all very sparse.

Ah, great, stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere , people talk wierd, gonna be no food soon, this is just great..." muttered Pickles.

"We have to be here for a reason, so quit your stupid sheeps whining and think. Why would we be here?" snapped Maeve commandingly.

No one had ever been spoken to quite like that by a roadie. Toki was a little afraid to disobey her.

"Well... that... guy at that inn place looked kinda familiar... sort of. Maybe," muttered Nathan, apparently thinking hard.

"Alright. Anyone else see any familiar faces?" she asked, apparently thinking back herself.

Toki looked around at all the faces and didn't see anyone familiar.

"Fuck thish schit, I'm goin' back to where we woke up," said Murderface, and he swallowed a last hunk of meat before marching off in the direction from which they'd came the day before.

Hurrying to catch up as best as he could with the unfamiliar tunic on, he found himself, along with the others, in the grassy plain before the town. A few yards away stood Nathan's horse, munching on the grass and still decorated with the specially designed war armor from the music video, which now seemed months in the past. It was a black stallion, larger than normal.

Maeve walked up to the horse and offered it an apple, which the horse gratefully accepted, whinnying in delight.

"Alright. Maybe we're here... to... find our ancient ancestors???" guessed Maeve, stroking the horse's broad nose.

"Nothin' else makes sense," grunted Murderface. He was pissing into a nearby patch of tangleweed and stones.

"So maybe that guy at the Inn is related to Nathan somehow... Maybe if we find the ancestors we decended from, they can tell us how to get back?" suggested Maeve, asking the others more than herself. She didn't sound so sure.

"I dunno. I guess I'll go wherever. I mean, I _am_ Irish, right? What better place, eh?" said Pickles.

Maeve nodded. Toki was from Norway... how was he supposed to find his ancestors in medieval Ireland? He wasn't Irish.

"I's Swedish, nots Irelandish. How's I supposeds to finds my ancestors, uh?" asked Skwisgaar.

Maeve gave him a chilling look and he glaerd right back.

"Because the Irish aren't the only ones here, Skwisgaar. The Nordic people are here in Dublin, right NOW, and the British and if they can be here, why not the Swedish? You never know, do you?" she said coldly.

Skwisgaar simply folded his arms. To Toki he looked like a child who had been refused cookies before dinner.

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PLEASE REVIEW!!!!


	9. Meetings that don't exist

Hey, this just occured to me one minute. Please review.

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They all finished eating, and Maeve climbed up on the horses back and began unfastening the horse's face plate aromor. It wasn't true to the times and would attract more attention than was wanted. With the armor and plates on, it looked too much like what the Irish would call a Nightmare for comfort. All it was missing were the falmes and the red eyes.

She advised the band to wait there for her and, taking the money she had amanged to get for a certain dagger, she rode into town to inquire about other horses. No way in hell was she going to listen to them bitching the whole way about walking.

She found She didn't expect to find many horses of walking quality, but to her surprise, she found four. A chestnut mare with a white nose, another midnight black stallion, a dappled white horse and one that was pure white. She got them for an okay price, too, just a few pieces of gold and silver and, oddly enough, a lock of her hair, which she found odd but figured what the hell.

She led them all alongside Nathan's horse by the bridles and the followed without complaint. She rode them straight out of th town and approached the band, who were all seated on the grass. Murderface was moodily picking at the blades with his hands and Nathan was ripping it out by the roots. They all looked up when Nathan's horse whinnied at his owner and their jaws fell.

"I want the other black one," said Nathan immediately. He got to his feet and jumped on the other black stallion. Despite being around other males, the stallion was sweet tempered and calm.

Toki claimed the dappled white one and Skwisgaar hopped up onto the pure white, which left Murderface and Pickles. Pickles wanted the chestnut and Murderface was left with no choice but to hop up behind the drummer since there were only five horses.

"So what now," said Nathan blankly.

"I have no idea. I'm honestly just playing this by ear," she replied.

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She led them along on Nathan's black horse, which she desided to call Nightmare simply because of the armor she had decided to replace, since there was nowhere to store it. The horse didn't mind.

In modern times, from what she remembered, this road would lead them to the next town, but she honestly had no idea what to expect.

No one said much of anything, but the subject of her heritage came up.

"I learned Gaelic from my grandmother before she died when I was about 6. I was adopted out to the US shortly after because I had no where to go. I've been there ever since," she explained, and left it at that. No one questioned her further.

They got to the next town without much incident, which was closer to the center of the country and found that there was more food. They bartered off more armor and what weapons they didn't need for more food and changes of clothes and Maeve developed an inventive way to bundle everything to the horses.

They kept moving, never staying in one place too long, and as they traveled, she began trying to teach Gaelic to the others. Toki grasped it the best, by far. Nathan was a babbling moron. Skwisgaar kept getting frustrated and Murderface refused point blank to learn it, claiming, "I can just ask you."

Pickles, however, was honestly trying his hardest but wasn't quite there yet.

They reached their third town, never stopping except to sleep or to rest, and before they knew it, a week had passed. Maeve was now the official unofficial leader of the band. Toki was now speaking almost perfect Gaelic. Pickles had just begun to grasp the concept of the grammar. Nathan kept swearing. Skwisgaar had decided, like Murderface, to simply ask her.

They reached Dublin by the tuesday of the second week and Toki immediately noticed someone familiar, going into a nearby pub. There were strangely dressed soldier looking men here and there, dressed in garish ornage and yellow colors with symbols of lions on the fronts. Englishmen.

Without an explanation, the young Norwegian jumped off his dappled horse and headed into the pub after the woman he had seen. Long brown hair, blue eyes, young. He overheard her talking in Norwegian to another brown haired person, a man dressed not so different than he was. He approached them.

"You're Norwegian?" he asked in said language.

They stared at him as if they had never seen him before, and something in the woman's face twitched, as if she _did_ recognize him.

"Mind your own business, youngster," growled the man, drinking from a tankard, but the woman kept searching his face.

"You look ... like... my mother..." she trailed off. She touched a brouch at her throat and Toki recognized it immediately, somewhat shocked. It was his mother's necklace. He had seen it once, under her robes, but she always wore it. A red stone surrounded in blackened metal, held together with a black ribbon.

"You know this necklace?" the woman asked him in Norwegian.

Toki nodded and swallowed, finally finding his voice.

"My mother wears that same necklace all the time. My friends and I are looking for relatives," he said, not wanting to give too much away in case they thought he was evil or crazy.

"Then you are part of our prophecy. Gather your friends and come to this pub later tonight, after it closes. The password is "plithe". There will be a meeting there," said the woman, solemnly. She was not smiling and Toki realized she was not joking. Jeez, no one around this place ever smiled!

"Bring your friends and no one else, and for Odin;'s sake, keep your mouth shut about it. These meetings never happened, got it boy?" growled the man, who had been listening.

Toki nodded and, casting a last uneasy glance at the couple, headed back out, where his band members were waiting.

"Well?" said Maeve in English.

Toki mentally switched and replied in English, but quietly so the soldier guy standing nearby wouldn't hear.

"They said to come to dis place tonights fors a meetings, but to tells no ones. Somethings about a prohpercy," he replied.

They all exchanged uneasy glances, but Pickles looked excited.

"Well, we can't deny it any more. We are here for a reason," said Maeve quietly, staring hard at the dingy looking pub.

They settled the horses in a nearby stable and bunked up in the hay nearby, waiting for nightfall.

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PLEASE REVIEW!!!


	10. Midnight mass

Hey, just catching up to my other story "saving deth". I got kinda carried away for a bit and from now on I'll try and keep the chapters on both fics even.

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Later that night, what the people of this time would call the "witching hour", Maeve and the others snuck back to the pub they had been in earlier. Murderface was silent. Toki was excited. Nathan couldn't care less. He just wanted to get the hell out of this place.

They were let into the pub after Maeve knocked softly and said the password, "plithe".

They were admitted and to their surprise, all but one of the little tables had been shoved against the walls. All but one larger one, where nine people sat discussing quietly. They all looked up as the group entered, and with the five band members plus Maeve, the room quickly became crowded with fifteen people.

The woman at the head of the table nodded imperiously. She had sparkling deep green eyes and very long, lush dark brown hair. She was not young, but her face radiated untold beauty anyway. She was clearly the leader.

To her left sat a couple with slightly darker skin and long, black hair, a man and a woman. Both were dressed in simple, fine white linen and looked vaguely egyptian, or perhaps that was just their eye makeup. Maeve thought she recognized the squashed nose on the man.

To their right sat a single woman, with long curly blonde hair and shy eyes. She made no inclination towards them.

To her right sat a man with extremely tangled red hair and small, beady blue eyes. He wore the casual tunic of the Irishfolk and had a small dagger clipped to his belt. He drank deeply from a hip flask and nodded to them.

To his right sat another couple, the man from the Inn in Ballina and a woman with long black hair. She had bright green eyes, where the man beside her had scraggly white hair and blue ones.

Last but not least, a pretty young brown haired woman and a man with the same hair and eyes. They bowed their heads slightly at seeing Toki.

"Please. Sit," said the woman with the long brown hair at the head of the table. She wore the most extravagant clothes of the bunch, a long, flowing silk gown and a simple silver hair circlet.

Murderface, Nathan, Pickles, Toki, Skwisgaar and Maeve all scrambled to find chairs and once they were all seated, the woman at thehead of the table spoike. The only light in the room came from several lit candles that looked as if they were made from talow and fat.

The woman spoke in english, although she had an extremely thick Irish accent.

"I speak in your language because one of us overheard you speaking it. Yet you are not with the British. You were invited here for a reason. To help us fulfill a prophecy. I am a seer, one who has visions. I foresee great death and destruction, many many centuries from now. Please. Tell us your names?" said the woman.

Maeve shook her head quickly at the others, advising them to say nothing. For once, they listened to her, even Murderface.

"Your names first. We're actually just here by accident, really. But I want to know that you'll help us get back home before we leave," she said firmly, speaking clearly. She stared at the woman head on and she smiled graciously, revealing smile wrinkles. She was perhaps 35, 40, but she was pretty.

"My name is Lady Maeve, of southern Ireland. I understand this is your name also?" she said, smiling mysteriously.

Maeve shut her mouth, speechless. This woman said she was a seer, not a mind reader.

"My name is Maeve but my friends call me Mae. This is William Murderface," she said pointing to her side at the grumpy Murderface.

"Um... I'm Nathan. Explosion," said Nathan.

"Toki Wartooth, I'm from Norway," said Toki, not smiling.

"Skwisgaar Skwigelf. Sweden," said Skwisgaar, not looking at anyone.

"M'name is actually Chaz Bonesnap, but everyone calls me Pickles. I'm the drummer," said Pickles, taking a swig of a bottle of alcohol that was nearby.

" 'Chaz' ?" echoed Nathan, smirking. Toi giggled and Skwisgaar chuckled a bit. Maeve shushed them and turned back to the group.

"Eh, shut up, ya douchebag, it's Pickles to you," said Pickles.

MEANWHILE...

While Dethklok and Maeve got acquainted with what would turn out to be their ancient ancestors, Charles Ofdensen was in danger of losing his job.

The band had been in a coma for almost two weeks now and people were starting to get worried. Mass deaths, mass suicides and now his old law firm wanted him back.

He refused to go. He liked this job too much. It allowed hhim to be as unprofessional as he wanted, while at the same time maintaining a professional exterior. Like torturing Rockzo the clown. GOD he hated that man.

Either way, the world was in a panic.

He watched on helpless as Dethklok slept on.

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"So lemme get this straight. You have visions of the futre and whatever. You saw... us? Playing onstage?" said Pickles.

The introductions had all been made. The egyptian looking couple next to Lady Maeve were Mehnit (the woman) and Nomti (the man) with no last names. They could not speak English or Irish and Maeve had been right in thinking they looked Egyptian. They were.

The single woman with the shy eyes and blonde hair was named Bridget. She said nothing. She was a very shy woman.

The old man from the Ballina Inn was known simply as Smitty and his wife was Natania Explostess. Nathan had already comfirmed them as being relatives of his, "Explostess" being an old family name.

The woman with the brown hair and the man Toki had talked with earlier were brother and sister, Antoni and Allina Wartooth. Their names were exactly the same as Toki's was, because, as Toki said, Wartooth had been in his family for centuries.

Lady Maeve turned out to be a surprise. She was directly related to the Maeve of Mordhaus.

The man with the red hair was named Orithe and said nothing.

"Yes. I did have a vision of you "playing" on what you call a stage. The music was... otherworldly. At first I thought I was dreaming, because this could not be. I saw my decendant, catering to you, and your fans, willingly killing themselves for the sake of you. I foresaw a world filled with this music you call "metal"." explained Maeve. She smiled warmly at Maeve and Maeve gave a small smile back.

The Egyptian couple, Mehnit and Nomti, said something in a strange language and Lady Maeve seemed to listen. She translated.

"They would like to know what made you arrive here, back in time. They believe the Egyptian goddess Nut has sent you back," said Lady Maeve.

Murderface made a derisive noise and began playing with his knife.

"We got struck by lightning, dickweed, no goddess about it," he said, stabbing the table. Apparently he didn't care what time he was in, he was going to be Murderface.

His ancestors merely stared at him, apparently fascinated that their decendants would eventually produce such a violent little man.

"Lightning, you say. Well, this may be easier than you thought. To get back home, you simply need to get struck again. Maeve's dream from before and your predicament mean that this is all happening in your dreams. Your bodies are still in your own time. To your loved ones, you probably appear to be in a deep sleep," explained Lady Maeve.

Maeve had indeed told the group of her dream, what she could remember. Pickle's ancestor merely grunted and took another drink. Not once did he speak.

"Sos, yous my ancestor, huh? Why you not talking?" asked Skwisgaar to the woman named Bridget.

The shy woman looked him in the face and Maeve was surprised to see that she couldn't have been older than herself, around 20 or so.

"Children speak last and only when spoken to, sir. I am not yet of marrying age," she said in Gaelic. Maeve translated and Skwisgaar looked funny.

"How old is you then?" he asked.

"I am of sixteen years, sir," said Bridget, after Maeve translated.

Skwisgaar whistled.

Toki, on the other hand, had seemed to get along great with his ancestors. He and the man were talking animatedly in Norwegian in the corner and Toki laughed.

"So, what, we just need to get hit by lightning again? How the hell we gonna do that?" asked Pickles.

"You wanna go easy on that liquor, boy. Ya only got one liver," growled the red haired man sternly and they all stared at him. He looked nothing like Pickles. Pickles was scrawny. This man was stout. He spoke English.

"Hey! YOU mind your own business!" said Pickles, whining.

"Okay, so lemme get this traight. We need to get hit by lightning again. And then we can just go home?" asked Nathan.

Lady Maeve nodded in tandem with Natania Explostess.

"Alright then, letsh go get hit by lightning," said Murderface, getting up to go, but Lady Maeve stopped him with one hand. Her skin was pale white and her fingers were delicate looking.

"Promise me this, then. You will fulfill my prophecy, yes? Turn the world to metal?" she said.

They all stared.

"You want us to do it?" asked Nathan, flabbergasted.

Lady Maeve smiled and this time it wasn't so gracious. It was hard and uncaring.

"Yes. I want you to fulfill it. For everything the world will endur in the next several centuries, there will be much joy and much sorrow. The peoples of your time enjoy brutalizing themselves to your playing. It brings them much joy. Continue doing what you are doing. In doing so, you will make everyone happy. Go, rest. We will have an informant find you when the next storm approaches and plan our next course of action," she said.

At this point, the meeting was dismissed. Everyone got up to go and the egyptian couple said something and Lady Maeve translated.

"They wish to know if they may touch your hair," said Lady Maeve, smiling.

Murderface let them and Mehnit actually giggled.

"She says it's soft and wonders why it does not move," translated Lady Maeve, laughing.

Murderface didn't smile.

"Hairshpray, you dildoe lickers, lemme outta here, I gotta piss," growled the bassist and by that time, Dethklok and Maeve were finished.

They set back out the the stable where their horses were being kept, a lot on their minds.

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PLEASE REVIEW!!!!

The egyptian names translate to "mehnit" the serpent goddess and "nomti" meaning "strength"


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